


I Look Pretty Tall But My Heels Are High

by jenatwork



Series: Substitute [2]
Category: Free!
Genre: Implied Hazuki Nagisa/Ryuugazaki Rei, Implied Matsuoka Rin/Nanase Haruka, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-21 22:26:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3706277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenatwork/pseuds/jenatwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Attending university in Tokyo, Makoto's doing his best to get over Haru. With some help, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

On his seventeenth day in Tokyo, Makoto realises that he's gone an entire morning without thinking about Haruka. In the middle of an Anatomy lecture, the professor says something about a body submerged in water, and Makoto remembers Haru in his bathtub wearing his swim-trunks, and _woah..._ His pen slips from his grasp and rolls off the desk and under the seat in front of him.

The girl sitting there doesn't notice; she's got a tablet computer on her desk and when Makoto leans forward to get her attention, he sees she's fully engrossed in some game. Tapping her on the shoulder would startle her and draw attention to both of them, and in a room full of at least two hundred students, Makoto can't bear the thought of all those eyes trained on him.

So he takes off his glasses and resigns himself to getting through the lecture without making any more notes. He checks his watch; only another fifteen minutes to go, anyway. He can do this.

But it's not long before he's thinking about Haru again, and wondering when such thoughts had become sporadic instead of every single minute.

His first day in Tokyo was a day of wondering what Haru was doing, what Haru would think of his new apartment, whether Haru would make it to lectures on time without him. Which led to wondering whether Rin knew to collect Haru every morning to ensure he actually went to lectures. And of course that led to thinking about Rin and Haru together. Makoto's first evening alone had been spent trying not to think about Rin and Haru in Haru's apartment, eating together in some tiny kitchen, watching movies on some tiny television, squeezed tightly into Haru's single bed.

Those thoughts linger as he throws himself into university life. When he walks to lectures, he walks without Haru. When he agrees to go drinking with people from his courses, he goes out without Haru. And when one girl from his Biology course asks if he's single, there's no Haru to look to for help and an escape.

Makoto doesn't notice the thoughts dwindling away, so when he realises he's gone an entire morning without them, he doesn't know how to react. He can't work out if he ought to feel more sad than he actually does. He misses Haru, of course he does; not just Haru's presence in his life, but the sense of completion that always came from knowing Haru was there to share things with him. Not to mention the ever-present sense of hope that one day one of them would finally do something, say something to tip their friendship over the edge; that last tipping point that kept him from holding Haru's hand as they walked home from school, from nuzzling into Haru's hair when they hugged after a successful swim meet. It's a positive, he supposes, that perhaps he's finally getting over Haru. But Makoto's not entirely certain he wants to be over Haru, not yet. 

Being over Haru means accepting that he doesn't have a chance; that Haru and him, it's never going to happen. And sure, the ache in his gut that used to spring up just thinking about Haru and Rin is barely there now, which ought to be a good thing, except... Except there's nothing to replace it.

Instead, there's just early morning commutes, and classes, and part-time work, and studying, and falling into bed far too late at night.

He's making friends; his easy smiles and generous nature make that easy enough. So far he's gone drinking with some of the guys from his Chem lecture, and had a group-date with five others from the Early Years Ed course – a trip to a real maid cafe in the city which had great food but, for Makoto, wasn't nearly as much fun as the Samezuka maid cafe (afterwards, he sent Haru a message saying none of the maids had been as cute as Nitori). There are people he sometimes eats lunch with, and neighbours he sometimes says hello to. But he figures it'll be a while before life in Tokyo starts to feel a bit less empty.

When the lecture draws to a close, Makoto gets the girl's attention and manages to retrieve his lost pen. He has a couple of hours before he has to be anywhere else, but Makoto wants to write up as much as he can remember from the end of the session before he forgets anything important. For once, he attempts to rush out of the hall to beat the crush, hoping to beat the crowds and find somewhere quiet. Until a familiar voice rumbles, “Tachibana” over the hum of a couple of hundred students, and suddenly he's not moving.


	2. Chapter 2

Sousuke is sitting at the back of the lecture theatre, one arm resting casually along the back of his seat. He doesn't look at all surprised to see Makoto.

Makoto, on the other hand, feels like the bottom just dropped out of his world. It's only when someone bumps into him from behind and nearly knocks him flying that he realises he's standing motionless, and blocking the exit to boot. Mumbling apologies to the growing crowd, he hurriedly steps aside to the row where Sousuke's sitting, all the while not taking his eyes off him.

Since Sousuke isn't making any move to leave, Makoto drops down into a seat, pulling his backpack into his lap.

“What...I mean, why are...” Jeez, he could slap himself, he sounds so stupid. “I didn't know you were studying here.” Why should he? After all, it's not like the two of them have ever really talked much. He's Rin's friend, a Samezuka graduate after all, and Makoto hasn't even seen him since... Oh jeez, since the Samezuka graduation party, when he spent a good chunk of the evening making out with Sousuke in the kitchen until Haru appeared, yawning and waiting for Makoto to take him home. They didn't even exchange numbers, and with his own graduation and packing for Tokyo and one last family vacation after school finished, there wasn't any opportunity to contact Sousuke. So why should he have known that Sousuke would be attending the same university as him?

And now, sitting just two feet away from an indecently nonchalant Sousuke, all Makoto can think about is those incredible minutes he spent learning the taste of Sousuke, the feel of his hands under Makoto's shirt and the unexpected softness of the hair at the back of his neck. 

Sousuke must know he's thinking about it too, because one corner of his mouth is twitching up into a salacious grin, and Makoto can feel his face flushing red. There isn't a single thing he can say in the wake of Sousuke's knowing look, because surely Sousuke can tell he's thinking, _we kissed, we kissed and it was amazing..._

So he's ridiculously grateful when Sousuke asks, “Wanna go get lunch?” because all he has to do is nod and stand and walk out of the lecture theatre where the rush of students has finally started to clear.

Out in the hallway, Sousuke slings his backpack on to his good shoulder and asks him, “Where do you want to get food?”

“I brought a bento,” Makoto tells him sheepishly. “I usually find a quiet spot outside to eat when the weather's nice. “

Sousuke scowls, before setting off down the hallway, leaving Makoto to hurry after him.

“I'm buying you lunch. Come on.”

As he lets Sousuke lead him out of the building and out into the streets, Makoto finally manages to put his scattered thoughts into a coherent offering to the conversation.

“I had no idea you were attending university here. Especially not in any of my courses.” They're walking side-by-side, Makoto trusting Sousuke to steer him in the right direction, wherever he's planning on taking them. The street is crowded, and occasionally his arm bumps against Sousuke's; Makoto hopes he isn't hitting that injured shoulder too hard, but Sousuke doesn't complain. 

“Well, you're always sitting in the front row like a good boy, so I didn't expect you to see me,” he responds, the light teasing tone in his voice reassuring Makoto that he doesn't mean anything cruel. “And it's not like we ever sat around chatting about our futures or anything.” 

Soon Sousuke steers him through the doorway of a noodle bar. It's busy inside, but they find two seats at the counter, and Makoto feels grateful that he doesn't have to sit looking directly at Sousuke.

As they wait for their food, they manage to make light conversation about adjusting to life in Tokyo and classes and Makoto's part-time job. Makoto explains that he has swim team practice later that afternoon, and Sousuke half-turns to look at him out of the corner of his eye.

“What's it like swimming without the others?” 

Makoto actually finds it touching that Sousuke doesn't have to explain who 'the others' are.

“I thought it'd be strange,” he admits. “I wasn't sure at first if I even wanted to try out. But if I want to be a coach, I really should keep it up. I suppose I ought to be looking at making captain next year.”

“Guess I was right about you being a good boy,” Sousuke teases. He's quiet for a moment, looking down at his clasped hands on the counter. “You hear from the others at all?”

There's discomfort in his voice, and Makoto isn't sure what to do with that.

“Nagisa's called me a couple of times, to update me on this year's Iwatobi team. They've got quite a few new members, so they're busy. Haru mostly sends me pictures.” He knows his own voice is tight as he says the last part. Let Sousuke do with that what he wants. “Do you ever hear from Rin?”

Sousuke takes a deep breath. 

“All the damn time.”

And Makoto has to laugh at his exasperation.

“Seriously, man, I get text messages about his apartment, about the size of the university pool, about how much time he's shaved off his personal best...I mean, he sent me a message last night about what they had for dinner.”

As if on cue, there's a beep and a buzz, and Sousuke pulls his cell-phone from his pocket with a weary sigh.

“'Hey, you should see how fast some of these third-year swimmers are,'” he reads in a dull voice. “'It's great to have a real challenge again. Miss you.' What kind of guy tells his buddy something like that?” A second later, the phone beeps again, and Sousuke opens up a picture message which he shows to Makoto; Rin clearly sucks at selfies, because half his face is cut off from the bottom of the picture. Behind him is the vast expanse of an Olympic-sized pool, the water churning from the swimmers currently training there. “How'm I supposed to reply to that? I don't reply to half of them, but they keep coming.”

“You don't reply?” Makoto is appalled, briefly, until he remembers that Sousuke is probably as heartbroken over Rin as he's been over Haru, maybe doubly so since Sousuke isn't even swimming competitively anymore.

“Hey, I'm not good with texts, okay?”

Feeling bold, Makoto holds out a hand, gesturing for Sousuke to give him the phone. When Sousuke offers it, Makoto carefully taps out a reply.

“'Glad to hear you're having a good time. Tokyo isn't as much fun without you,'” he reads as he types. “How's that? Not too sappy.”

Sousuke shrugs but doesn't complain. Their food arrives, and they eat in silence for a while, until Makoto's own cell-phone begins vibrating in his pocket. He apologises as he takes it out, and opens up a picture message from Haru. It's the same pool from Rin's picture; Rin is just visible at the edge of the photo, a towel slung over his head indicating he's done swimming. Makoto stares at it for too long, until Sousuke leans over to take a look. He makes an odd little sound, low in his throat, then holds out his hand for Makoto's phone. Makoto hesitates for a second, then thinks _fair's fair_ and hopes he can trust Sousuke not to embarrass him.

With one hand, Sousuke taps out a message, then shows it to Makoto briefly before hitting 'send'.

I'm on a date. I'll talk to you later.

He puts the phone back down on the counter in between their bowls.

“S-Sousuke!” His strangled cry is barely audible over the background din of the restaurant, but he still feels conspicuous. “Don't tease! Now I'll have to explain...”

“What's to explain? I asked you out for lunch. I'm paying. After we're done, I'm going to walk you to swim practise. I think that qualifies as a date.”

There's nothing Makoto can say to that. He looks down at his half-eaten food, not sure if he can finish it. Beside him, Sousuke is eating with gusto. In between mouthfuls, he asks, “You saying you don't want to date me?”

Unable to look at him, Makoto can only mumble, “This is kind of sudden, isn't it?”

“Okay then. If I ask you out for later in the week, will that help? If you have time to, I dunno, prepare?”

“I...suppose?” It's still too much for Makoto to take in. This morning he had no idea that anyone he knew from Iwatobi was right here in Tokyo with him; now he's in the middle of a date with Sousuke.

“Saturday night then? Will that give you enough time to make yourself pretty for me?”

Now Makoto looks at him, horrified. Dammit, Sousuke's laughing at him. He even goes so far as to wink at Makoto.

“Man, you're easy to wind up.”

Sousuke picks up Makoto's phone, which has been sitting on the counter. Makoto watches him enter his own number into the contacts list, then send himself a blank text message.

“There. Now I have your number and you have mine. That way you can let me know if you're going to cancel our date.”

Sousuke makes good on his offer to walk him to practise; they stroll slowly, since Makoto's got a little more time to spare and Sousuke evidently doesn't have anywhere else to be. As they walk, Makoto somehow manages to find his tongue again.

“What are you studying?” he asks. It's lame, but it keeps Sousuke talking.

“Sciences, some basic medical stuff,” he answers cryptically. “And a business course, which always helps.”

“You have plans for all that after college?”

“Maybe. And you're planning on coaching little kids?” The change of subject is obvious, but Makoto doesn't object.

“I did some coaching back in Iwatobi. It was actually fun. I guess having a younger brother and sister makes it easy for me to work with kids.” He knows he's smiling as he says it, and Sousuke probably thinks he looks like a total goof, but he doesn't care. He's got a goal, and it's a worthy one, and working towards it is what's kept him from clearing out his apartment and running back to Iwatobi these past couple of weeks to cry like a baby in his old bedroom.

“So that's why you're sitting on the front row in lectures actually taking notes when everyone else is just showing up for credit?”

“Is that a problem?” he asks, managing to sound cockier than he actually feels. He's relieved when Sousuke flashes a half-smile.

“Not at all. It means I know who to ask when I need to borrow notes.”

They've reached the sports section of the campus, and Sousuke stops walking and turns to face him.

“Thanks,” Makoto says. “For lunch, I mean.”

“Any time,” Sousuke replies with a shrug. “And I'm serious about Saturday.” Makoto feels his face reddening again, hates himself for it. “Better get to practice. Work hard, okay? Be a good boy.” And Sousuke's off before he can respond, leaving Makoto standing by himself, wondering when his world went so topsy-turvy.

He's off during practice, and the captain notices. He promises to make it up next time before anyone can scold him, then rushes back to the locker room. He checks his phone before he even heads to the shower, hoping no one is close enough to see the screen. Sure enough, there's a message from Sousuke. An address, followed by _7pm, Saturday._ He's grateful that the locker door hides his blushing.


	3. Chapter 3

On the train home, Makoto stares at his phone and wonders how to explain the text message to Haru. After several deleted drafts, he settles for 'Sorry I couldn't reply sooner – it's been a weird day'. He shoves the phone back into his pocket and decides to do nothing else until Haru responds.

Somehow he makes it to Saturday without falling apart. His second swim practice of the week goes much more smoothly, his shift at the cafe takes his mind off Sousuke, and by Saturday afternoon he's actually looking forward to doing something out of his normal routine.

Nagisa calls him while he's washing the dishes from lunch, and he hastily dries his hands on his pants legs before grabbing his phone. 

“Hi, Mako-chan!” The voice at the other end is unnecessarily loud.

“Nagisa-kun! Just because I'm all this way away, doesn't mean you have to shout!” He chuckles and moves to sit down; Nagisa's calls can go on for a while, so he might as well get comfortable.

“Sorry, Mako-chan,” Nagisa continues, at the exact same volume as before. “It's really loud here!” In the background, Makoto can hear splashing, and Rei calling instructions to someone.

“Training hard, I hope?” Makoto asks.

“Of course! We have a meet coming up, and we need to whip the new recruits into shape.” Nagisa's voice drops for the last part, apparently imitating Rei.

“As long as they're having fun while they're at it,” he chides. It's good to talk to someone familiar again, and suddenly Makoto feels the sharp pang of homesickness. He'd love to be hanging out at the pool with Nagisa and Rei. Makoto imagines Haru in the picture, and something clenches tight in his chest. Haru hasn't sent him any messages since Sousuke commandeered his phone, and he's worried.

Nagisa continues updating him on the team's progress, and he lets the cheerful voice wash over him. Rei takes the phone for a while and asks him a few questions about university, and Makoto can't help noticing the way his voice sounds much more relaxed lately. Nagisa is clearly good for him, Makoto decides.

Eventually Nagisa takes back the phone to ask Makoto if he has plans for the evening. 

“I hope you're not just going to stay home and study again, Mako-chan!”

“Actually,” he counters, “I am going out tonight.”

“Oh, hot date, eh?” When he doesn't respond straight away, he hears Nagisa gasp. “Mako-chan, you do have a date! Awesome! What's his name?”

He doesn't comment on the fact that Nagisa assumes it's a guy; instead, he's grateful for one less difficult conversation.

“I don't want to talk about it just yet,” he explains. “I'm already nervous, I don't want to make it any worse.”

Nagisa makes a disappointed sound.

“Well, you'd better tell me tomorrow how it went.”

They say their goodbyes, after Makoto promises to update Nagisa in the morning. He spends the next few hours trying not to think about Sousuke; he cleans the apartment, sorts through some laundry, reads some of his assigned reading and even washes the kitchen window, until eventually there's nothing left to do except get ready.

After taking a shower, he stands in front of his open closet, a towel wrapped around his waist, trying not to panic about his lack of date-appropriate clothes. He's looked up the address Sousuke gave him online, only slightly relieved to find out it's a restaurant and not a bar or a nightclub. There wasn't much information about it, or even a menu, and he hopes it's not too fancy. He certainly doesn't have any fancy restaurant clothes, let alone the money to pay for a fancy dinner.

He tries a few different combinations, half tempted to call Sousuke and cancel after all since nothing seems to look right, but the thought of disappointing Nagisa (and spending another Saturday night studying) makes him settle for his one pair of smart black slacks with a fitted T-shirt and a vest, hoping it will pass for fashionable rather than sloppy. He has no dress-shoes, and hopes his black running shoes won't draw any undue attention.

He gives himself a last look in the mirror, resolves once again not to cancel, and sets off for the train.

Makoto spends the short journey enjoying the sensation of butterflies dancing in his stomach. Memories of Sousuke at the Samezuka party keep a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Although he's not expecting anything like that to happen tonight, the knowledge that Sousuke wants to see him again is exciting in a way he's never experienced before.

It's a full ten minutes before seven when he arrives at the restaurant, and he's expecting to have to wait outside for Sousuke. So he's pleasantly surprised to see Sousuke leaning casually against the wall not far from the doorway.

“I knew you'd be early,” Sousuke says by way of a greeting. “Wouldn't want to keep such a good boy waiting.”

Makoto manages an embarrassed smile and a “Hi” of his own before Sousuke moves and holds open the restaurant door for him. As he heads through, he feels Sousuke's hand on his back, and the touch is enough to leave his face blazing; surely everyone must be staring at them!

But they are greeted and seated without any fuss. The other patrons don't even look up at them. Their table is right in the middle of the restaurant, for which Makoto is thankful; he's not sure he could handle a secluded candlelit table in a quiet corner. They're given menus and soon left alone.

“Sousuke, some of these prices are kinda...” Makoto thinks of the few notes in his wallet, and the emergency credit card he'd hoped never to need.

“It's on me.”

“But you paid for lunch the other day,” he protests. Three shifts a week at the cafe cover his basic expenses and school supplies, but not much else, so he has no idea how Sousuke can afford to pay for both of their meals. “And don't even think about ordering the cheapest meal because you feel guilty or something. I asked you out, so I pay.”

There's no arguing with Sousuke's tone of voice, so Makoto goes back to studying the menu. Some of the food does look amazing, and it's a change from the basic meals he cooks for himself. Still, he doesn't like the thought of Sousuke spending so much money on him, so he chooses something from the lower end of the price range and insists it's his favourite. Sousuke rolls his eyes, but doesn't argue. When their waiter returns, Sousuke adds two beers to their order; Makoto is about to protest, but the waiter doesn't bother to check their ID and speaking up would only draw attention to their being underage.

They make pleasant small talk through the meal, mostly about classes and life in the city. Makoto finds out that Sousuke is on his Sports Studies course as well as Human Biology, and he boldly suggests that Sousuke sit with him in the next lecture.

“But then I'll actually have to take notes if the professor can see me,” Sousuke says with a pained expression.

“You're telling me you're just showing up for credit? Don't you want to learn anything?” He's only half-teasing. “You sounded like you had something specific in mind for after you graduate.”

Sousuke studies the food on his plate for a quiet few seconds before he answers.

“I don't know if it's going to pan out. It was a last-minute idea when I was looking at courses.”

Makoto wishes the restaurant was quieter; Sousuke's dropped his voice, so this is clearly important. He feels oddly privileged, and doesn't quite know what to do with that.

“I mean, everyone kept telling me to go into coaching, especially...” He breaks off, doesn't say _that_ name. “Especially since I coached Nitori for a while. But if I had to spend the rest of my life watching swimmers, watching people get better at it than I ever was? I think it'd kill me.” Sousuke puts down his chopsticks and clasps his hands, elbows resting either side of his plate. “But I don't know anything outside of swimming, or training. So...”

“Sports medicine,” Makoto finishes for him. Sousuke doesn't look up.

“Physiotherapy.” 

“Wow. That's actually really cool.” Makoto feels like beaming; Sousuke's shared something with him that probably no one else knows, and it warms him inside to realise that. But this is no time to look like such a dork, so somehow he manages to hold it in. Still, he wishes he knew how to show his appreciation for Sousuke's honesty, and his bravery. Makoto can't imagine what it must be like to be told you can no longer do the one thing you live for. He remembers the winters when Haru couldn't swim, how much more closed off he'd seemed, how much more distant he drifted from Makoto and the rest of the world. Then he realises with a start that, once again, he's gone for a significant chunk of time without thinking about Haru, and that Haru still hasn't contacted him. Makoto jams a large bite of food into his mouth and tries to focus on his meal instead.

And damn, the food is good; he's actually a little regretful that he didn't go for one of the more expensive dishes. Sousuke's meal looks incredible, and Makoto briefly entertains thoughts of Sousuke feeding him a bite from his own plate, but the thought is too silly. He hopes Sousuke doesn't see his amusement, because explaining that would be too weird.

The rest of the meal is spent with more light-hearted conversation. With a little encouragement, Makoto tells Sousuke about his time coaching at the Iwatobi club, about his success with Hayato, and what it feels like to help someone achieve their goal. He even gets Sousuke to tell him about coaching Nitori, and he decides it's fun watching the way that, when Sousuke isn't teasing him, his real smiles start from his eyes, before he ducks his head to hide when they reach his mouth.

Dinner is followed by a second round of beers, and talk of Makoto's part-time job. He notes that Sousuke doesn't mention doing anything much outside of classes, and files that away for further investigation. More importantly is the realisation that they've gone their entire meal without mentioning Haru or Rin, and Makoto realises that's a thing, something simmering away beneath the conversation, but the longer they go without saying anything, the harder it is to mention it at all. Briefly, he contemplates asking about Rin at another time, when they're not eating fancy food at a table for two in their best clothes, when they're not _on a date,_ for crying out loud! Because Makoto's dating experience is minimal, but the one thing he knows is that you don't ask your date about the guy he's trying to get over losing.

When Sousuke offers, Makoto politely declines a third beer. He's feeling the second, and wobbles a little when he stands up and excuses himself to go to the bathroom. It's not surprising to see that his reflection in the mirror is as flushed as he feels; between two beers, the warmth of the restaurant and Sousuke's attention, his skin is practically electrified. He splashes cold water on his cheeks to try to lessen it, but then he's left with a wet face and no way to dry it, so he has to stand in the bathroom feeling hopelessly awkward until he stops looking like he got caught in the rain. With both hands on the edge of the sink, he watches his reflection and thinks back over the past hour with Sousuke. It's been surprisingly easy to talk to him, more so than the new friends he's still getting to know from his classes. He could go home right now feeling satisfied that he'd had an enjoyable evening. But Makoto can't help thinking that, apart from that guiding hand on his back, Sousuke hasn't touched him once. The feel of Sousuke's kisses is seared into his memory, and with a fresh burst of blushing, Makoto decides he wants that again. There's definitely something about Sousuke that unnerves him, makes him feel like he's in danger of something painful, but it's exciting at the same time. Sousuke hasn't done much that could count as flirting, but this is still a date, after all, and it isn't over yet.

With one last glance at himself in the mirror, Makoto steels himself to head back to the table and wonders how he can get Sousuke to touch him again before their date is over.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time he gets back to the table, Sousuke is already taking care of the check, thanking the waiter, who bows and smiles and quickly disappears. Makoto can't help another twitch of guilt at the thought of Sousuke paying for another of his meals, and he resolves to do something nice for Sousuke in return. Then he realises that will mean another reason to see him, possibly another date, and he knows Sousuke has seen his shy smile at that thought. Fortunately, Sousuke doesn't question it. Instead, he stands as Makoto approaches, retrieving his jacket from the back of his chair.

“Let's take a walk,” Sousuke suggests, his voice brooking no argument. Together they head out into the street, already lit by streetlamps and store signs and bright neons. Makoto's only experience of the city at this time is from rushing home at the end of a shift at the cafe or a long study session, so it's actually kind of nice just to walk around aimlessly, enjoying the change in atmosphere. It's not especially late, but already there are groups out drinking; middle-aged men still in their work suits, and young men and women in twos and threes enjoying their weekend freedom.

From time to time, Sousuke points out stores and cafes he's visited; clearly he knows his way around much better than Makoto, who wants to ask why that is. He wonders if Sousuke has made frequent trips to the city before, but it sounds as if Sousuke's been here much more recently.

Sometimes Sousuke's arm bumps against his as they walk. Makoto hopes it's deliberate. He thinks about what it would feel like if Sousuke's fingers were twined around his, and has to jam both hands in his pockets to keep from letting them brush against Sousuke's.

Around them, the streets are becoming busier, weekend revellers getting louder and more inebriated. Twice, Makoto is jostled by drunk salarymen stumbling towards them, and when a group of young men smoking on a corner edge closer and slur vulgar remarks at the two of them, Makoto finds himself unnerved, automatically shifting closer to Sousuke.

The man in question senses his unease and leans in to tell him, “I think it's time to head back.” They quicken their pace a little as they head to the nearest train station, thankfully not too far away. Even there, though, it's more crowded than Makoto expects, and he stays as close to Sousuke as he can get away with.

“You gonna be okay going back on your own?” Sousuke asks him. He nods, but Sousuke seems to see through his attempt at bravado. “You could...you could come back with me.” Makoto's eyes widen, and he starts to protest, but Sousuke holds up a hand to cut him off. “Hey, I didn't mean – I'll sleep on the couch or something.”

Makoto shakes his head. “I can't take your bed. That's not fair.”

“So you sleep on the couch. Either way, it's better than taking a train full of drunks by yourself.” Sousuke isn't looking at him, and his voice is soft, unlike the confident way he'd asked Makoto out in the first place. Besides, the thought of going home alone does bother him, although not for the reason Sousuke suggests.

“I'd be okay with the couch. If it's not too much trouble.” Accepting the offer makes him feel daring; he thinks about updating Nagisa on all this in the morning, and suddenly the fluttering feeling in his stomach is back.

Neither of them speaks during the train journey. It's crowded still, and they stand almost chest-to-chest, strap-hanging and studiously avoiding each other's eyes. He follows Sousuke's lead on the short walk to his apartment, no words between them apart from Sousuke's occasional “this way” or “left here”. There's expectation in the air, vague and exciting. Out in the suburbs, this late at night, it's unnaturally quiet, and Makoto feels exposed, oddly fragile.

Even so, when Sousuke lets him into his apartment at last, he has to stutter out a “pardon the intrusion” out of habit, hating the loudness of his voice in the still darkness. Sousuke's response is a deep breath of a laugh as he leads him down the hallway.

The apartment isn't much bigger than Makato's, but it's much more lavishly furnished. There are framed photographs on the walls – arty black-and-white cityscapes – and they pass a kitchen full of sleek-looking appliances. They end up in the living room, with its modern sofa and a study area in one corner, but the door to Sousuke's bedroom is open and Makoto can't miss the full-size bed that takes up most of the space in there.

He hovers nervously by the couch, unsure if Sousuke is planning to go straight to bed or if they're going to talk some more. Usually by this time, Makoto's already in bed, even on a Saturday – he works Sunday afternoons, so likes to make the most of his free mornings – but beer and excitement are enough to keep him wide awake.

“Nice place,” he tells Sousuke, gesturing around him.

“Thank my dad,” is the reply, not very enthusiastic. “He said I ought to have a decent place to bring girls back to.” Sousuke snorts derisively at the idea, but it still makes Makoto unexpectedly anxious.

“Have you?”

“Brought a girl back here?” Sousuke arches an eyebrow, as if the thought of actually doing that hadn't occurred to him. “No. Never been with a girl.” Makoto tries not to look relieved. “Kissed a couple. Second year of high school. It was okay.”

“But...?” Something starts bubbling pleasantly in Makoto's stomach, a feeling not unlike standing at the top of a tall building and looking down.

“But I prefer muscles.”

And suddenly there's so very much of Sousuke filling his vision: broad chest not quite hidden under his T-shirt, shoulders lifting with each shallow breath, and Sousuke's eyes, seeking permission that Makoto couldn't dream of denying. And those strong arms are around his waist, and those eyes close as Sousuke kisses him with a desperation Makoto isn't expecting, pouring himself into Makoto and grasping at his shirt, his hair, whatever he can find to keep Makoto right there. Makoto wants to tell him it's okay, he's not going anywhere, but his mouth is otherwise occupied, so he says it with his fingers threaded into Sousuke's hair and his hips pressed hard against Sousuke's hips until they're both gasping, drowning, and still clinging to each other to keep from slipping.

At some point they must have moved, since Makoto's calves bump against the edge of the sofa. Then he's sitting, stretching out with Sousuke above him, around him, and there's warm weight down the length of his body and a firm thigh nudging between his, and his breath is coming in gasps each time Sousuke's lips move and he doesn't care that he's panting because god, Sousuke's thigh is pressing just _there_ and why has no one ever touched him so much at once like this before? He cants his hips upwards without thinking, and feels Sousuke against his own thigh, so definitely there with Sousuke pushing back and Makoto thinks he might come while still in his clothes because it's so much, too much, and maybe they should have talked about this or maybe they should stop kissing, but he just wants to touch, just keep touching Sousuke, hands on his back at his waist on his ass, god Makoto's got his hand on Sousuke's ass and he doesn't know how he dared but there it is, so he squeezes and Sousuke moans, deep in his throat and finally, finally stops kissing him.

“We shouldn't...” Sousuke gasps, “we should...”

“Stop?”

“Move.” Sousuke's head shifts, his eyes a blur as Makoto struggles to focus on him. He thinks maybe Sousuke will come back, will kiss him some more, and that would be perfect, only Sousuke's struggling back to his feet, pulling Makoto up and stumbling with him to the bedroom, his hands already tugging at Makoto's clothes. And Makoto's a good boy, has to help, so he pulls off his vest and T-shirt together, he can pick them up off the floor in the morning, and Sousuke's kind enough to take off his own shirt and oh, if kissing before was good then kissing Sousuke with so much skin pressed against Makoto's skin is unbelievable. Only it's not enough, and those are his hands pulling at Sousuke's belt buckle, working the zip, pushing Sousuke's jeans down just far enough until Sousuke wriggles to get them the rest of the way, kicking them aside and toeing off his socks. Makoto's pants follow quickly with two sets of hands to remove them, and then he's on his back with Sousuke above him once more, kissing like they never stopped, two pairs of underwear the only thing still separating them. Any thoughts of talking, of slowing things down, don't even make it beyond the edges of Makoto's consciousness, because Sousuke's kissing him and rolling his hips and Makoto needs, needs, has to have Sousuke pressing against him like this because it's everything, it's everything he's been missing these past few empty days. Days on his own in this strange city where everything is new, and this is something familiar, something he can do, pushing against Sousuke until all he knows is the heat between his legs. Two pairs of hands drift and explore, and push that godawful underwear out of the way, finally, and when Sousuke's hot and hard against his hip, sliding in some stuttered rhythm, Makoto reaches between them, wraps one hand around them both and moves once, twice, and Sousuke's grunting, rasping moans through his release until Makoto follows and falls with him, loud and messy but he doesn't care, can't care, can't anything.

Seconds pass, their breaths rapid and shallow, until Sousuke's face is buried in the crook of his neck. Makoto raises a hand to cup the back of his head, the moment so unexpectedly tender that he has to screw his eyes closed to focus on it. He's holding Sousuke, who's heavy and warm, until finally Sousuke allows himself to be turned on to his back beside him. There's a nightstand, with a box of tissues on it, and when Makoto leans over to grab some he feels cold, so he cleans them up quickly and shuffles them around until they're under the sheets. 

He has no idea what's supposed to come next, grateful when Sousuke drapes an arm over his waist and kisses him again, soft and slow this time, his nose nudging Makoto's. They never even turned the bedroom light on; streetlamps filter through the blinds just enough for him to see Sousuke. His eyes are closed, and his breathing has slowed, deepened, and pretty soon he's asleep with one arm around Makoto, who briefly entertains the idea of watching him, studying his face to learn what he can while Sousuke's so unguarded like this, until exhaustion catches up with him and he drifts off into deep, welcoming sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

It's not quite light when he wakes; the room is grey and flat and at first Makoto can't figure out why he's awake so early – he was out late and exhausted and oh, yeah. Sousuke. Sousuke's already awake beside him, staring up at the ceiling until Makoto shifts and draws his attention. When his vision clears sufficiently, he sees Sousuke's expression is hesitant – not quite regretful, but more like he's worried in case Makoto's upset or something. He wants to say he's fine, better than fine, but his voice isn't working yet, so he says it with a smile and his hand on Sousuke's chest. When Sousuke's hand comes up to cover his, Makoto knows they're okay.

Feeling brave, he moves closer until he can kiss Sousuke, his mouth closed because he can still taste last night's beer, but it's sweet all the same, and Makoto thinks he could get used to waking up like this. When he pulls back, Sousuke puts an arm around his waist, matching the way they fell asleep.

“I feel like...” Sousuke's voice is raw, thick with sleep, and he clears his throat before trying again. “I feel like we should have, I dunno, gone slower or something. Talked more.” Makoto's brow furrows in confusion, and Sousuke's eyes widen briefly at his apparent distress. “It was good, I mean, jeez...really good. I just...I wanted to take my time. Get to know you.” His voice drops to a low whisper towards the end of his confession.

Makoto watches his own fingers as they trace over Sousuke's collarbone.

“Maybe we could try again some time?”

At that, Sousuke's grip around his waist tightens.

“'Maybe'? There's no 'maybe'.” Sousuke's fully awake now, eyes flashing and voice deathly serious. “Jeez, Tachibana, you think there's a chance I wouldn't want to do that again?” He kisses Makoto, hard, pushing him on to his back and using his body weight to hold him in place.

Makoto protests as soon as he's able - “I haven't brushed my teeth!” - but Sousuke just laughs and kisses him again like he can't get enough of him and Makoto can't complain when Sousuke clearly needs this, needs to be pressed to Makoto head-to-foot. He's relieved when Sousuke leaves his mouth and kisses along his jaw, down his neck, but then somehow that's so much better than before, Sousuke's lips and tongue mapping the lines and planes of his chest. He tries not to shudder as Sousuke somehow finds places he didn't even know were sensitive, the muscles in his stomach tightening under touches that are just the right side of ticklish. Sousuke's mouth finds a bit of skin that Makoto thinks even he himself hasn't touched before, and he waits with delicious agony for Sousuke to find where Makoto most needs his touch, only Sousuke keeps heading down, down to his thighs, his knees, and it's maddening and wonderful, Sousuke's hands around his calf and kisses on his ankles, and please god don't let Sousuke touch his feet because if he giggles this will all be over. But Sousuke starts his slow return along Makoto's other leg until finally, finally Sousuke takes him in his hand, squeezes carefully and kisses the tip and god, Makoto's just _gone_ , a desperate groan he didn't know he was capable of filling the room, and he'd be embarrassed if he could think about anything other than the wet heat of Sousuke's mouth. His entire world has narrowed to that mouth on his cock, sliding too slowly down his length, Sousuke's hand gripping the inches he can't take in. He's grateful for Sousuke's other hand on his hip to hold him still because otherwise he'd be bucking upwards each time Sousuke's head dips. He wants to make this last, wants Sousuke's hands and mouth on him every second that he's alive, but the novelty of all this, the contact he never knew he was missing, it's all so much and he's perilously close already, needs to let Sousuke know.

But “S-Sou-” is all he can manage, so he tries with a hand on Sousuke's shoulder, glancing down, and it's the sight of Sousuke with his mouth on Makoto's cock that tips him over the edge because god, is there anything better than knowing that someone wants to do this with him? Wants to touch him, wants to make him come?

If Sousuke's caught off-guard, Makoto can't tell, because suddenly it's too much effort to hold his head up to see; his eyes are shut tight and his hands are fisted in the bed sheets as he shudders and screams, actually screams.

When he can bring himself to open his eyes again, he's panting, his throat scratched and raw, and Sousuke's over him, propped up on one elbow to brush Makoto's sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. His face is a beautiful confusion of emotion – amusement and surprise and something in his eyes that makes Makoto's heart hurt for a second. Once he's satisfied that Makoto's recovered, Sousuke kisses him; the taste isn't pleasant, but Makoto thinks he'll never complain about Sousuke kissing him. He can feel Sousuke's neglected erection against his stomach, and with some effort he turns Sousuke on to his back, aiming to head downwards and reciprocate, but Sousuke stops him with a grunt and a hand on Makoto's arm.

“I wouldn't last two seconds,” he explains, gently urging Makoto back up. To appease him, he takes Makoto's hand and guides it downwards instead. Makoto wraps his fingers loosely around Sousuke's length, enjoying the hiss of pleasure that evokes. He watches Sousuke's face to ensure he's getting his movements right, and when Sousuke looks him in the eye and whispers, “Kiss me again,” Makoto comes undone. He kisses Sousuke like he's breathing life into him, knowing from the way Sousuke clings to him that he's asking for something much more than kisses.

It doesn't take long before Sousuke's shuddering, moaning into Makoto's mouth and coating his hand with his release.

Makoto slows as Sousuke's orgasm subsides, and when he's finally still except for the rapid rise and fall of his chest, Makoto brings his hand up, curious enough to taste. It's weird, but the way Sousuke groans at the sight of him doing that is worth it.

He grabs tissues from the nightstand to clean them both up properly, adding to the ones from last night. When he's satisfied with his efforts, he settles back on to the bed, pulling the sheets back up to warm his skin where sweat is quickly cooling.

The light coming through the window is brighter now, real sunlight instead of pre-dawn grey. Makoto feels drained, and it's an effort to move his arm around Sousuke's back. Sousuke's leg nudges between his, their feet rubbing together, and Makoto marvels at the way that Sousuke can press against every inch of him and then some; the novelty of feeling small makes him smile. The softness, the sweetness of the moment is a surprise, something he'd never have expected from Sousuke. He resolves to commit as much as he can to memory, from the sound of Sousuke's breathing to the warmth of the hand pressed against his hip.

“You called me 'Sou',” Sousuke rumbles, a smile in his voice.

“I did?” Makoto rubs at his eyes with his free hand, trying to remember the many sounds he made as Sousuke...oh god, as Sousuke sucked him off, that actually did happen...

“I like that.” It's barely a whisper against Makoto's shoulder, and he finds himself stroking Sousuke's cheek, watching his eyes flutter shut with embarrassment.

“Sou,” he repeats, before kissing Sousuke's forehead. The name makes him think of Haru, and suddenly it hurts, it hurts, how could he have forgotten Haru? Even though Sousuke wants him, holds him and kisses him as easy as breathing, he feels rotten inside because years of wanting someone don't just disappear after one night, even if Haru's probably had plenty of nights like that with Rin. He bites down on the thought and kisses Sousuke, fills his senses with Sousuke and tells the Haru in his mind that this is enough.

When his breathing grows ragged, Sousuke pulls back to ask, “Can you stay?”

Makoto shakes his head.

“I have work. I have to go home and change.”

“Stay for breakfast?”

That, he can do, at least. He uses Sousuke's shower and dresses again while Sousuke searches for food in the kitchen. He can't bring himself to put his underwear back on, but has nothing to carry it home in, so drops it into Sousuke's laundry basket with a twitch of guilt.

They eat in the kitchen, Sousuke in sweatpants but no shirt. Sousuke offers to walk him back to the train station, but Makoto points out that if they do that then Makoto won't be able to kiss him goodbye. That makes Sousuke laugh with surprise, and Makoto thinks that Sousuke's laughter is his favourite sound.

Sousuke gives him directions to the station and tells him, “I know it's pointless to ask a good boy like you to call in sick and take the day off.” It's true, but Makoto likes that Sousuke thought of it. They say goodbye with kisses at the door, Makoto's hands on Sousuke's neck because if they stray any lower they'll reach Sousuke's bare chest and then he'll be lost. Makoto ends it with a “Goodbye, Sou,” and the last thing he sees before he leaves is the blush on Sousuke's face.

On the train, he's acutely aware that he isn't wearing anything under his pants.

* * * * *

He's just closing the door to his own apartment when his phone rings. Assuming it's his boss wanting to know if he can start early, he quickly pulls the phone from his pocket, pleasantly surprised to see Nagisa's name on the screen.

“Good mornng!” his friend chirps, unnaturally enthusiastic for 9.30 on a Sunday morning. 

“Morning, Nagisa,” he replies as he heads towards the kitchen. He's thirsty, his throat still a little sore, and he struggles to hold his phone and pour himself a glass of water at the same time. “Gimme a sec, Nagisa, I just got back and I - ” He regrets the words as soon as they're out of his mouth, if for no other reason than Nagisa's squeal of delight is painful.

“Mako-chan! Does that mean you...?” He doesn't answer, which only confirms it for Nagisa. “Mako-chan got lucky!”

He hears some low-pitched grumbling in the background, and it sounds like Nagisa's moving around.

“Nagisa, are you – is that Rei?”

“I'm at Rei-chan's house. I stayed over. We only slept, though. We haven't done that.” The grumbling gets louder, and there's the sound of a scuffle before Rei's voice takes over.

“Makoto-senpai, I must apologise for Nagisa's rudeness.” Way to go Rei for taking Nagisa's phone, he thinks; a few months ago he'd have probably just whined and pouted and hidden his face in his hands.

“Don't worry, Rei,” he says, and hopes it's one of the weekends that Rei's parents are working. At least they're not at Nagisa's house, where his sisters might have overheard.

There's whispering, and Rei saying something stern to Nagisa before evidently returning his phone.

“So, Mako-chan, was it a good date?”

“It was a very good date,” he agrees with a smile, not sure what else to say without giving too many details.

“Is he nice? Oh, he must be if you stayed out all night! Is he good-looking? I'll bet he's gorgeous! Tall, dark and handsome, right?” Makoto's surprised that Nagisa described Sousuke quite closely and didn't guess someone more like Haru, short and cute and no, he is not going to think about Haru right now.

“He was...sweet,” he settles for. “He took me out for dinner and we took a walk around the city.”

“And then he took you back to his place?” Nagisa's voice is far too lascivious for someone who looks so innocent, and Makoto hopes it's only the influence of his older sisters. There's more whispering, before Nagisa comes back. “Rei-chan's saying I shouldn't pry too much.”

“Rei-chan's probably right,” he says, immensely grateful for Rei's sense of decorum. “Listen, Nagisa, I have to get ready for work. I can call you later in the week, if you like.”

They agree to talk again on Tuesday after Makoto's swim practise, and he bids both of them goodbye before hanging up. He can't help feeling guilty for not telling them about Sousuke, but he has no idea how to break it to them. Plus, the phone in his hand reminds him that he hasn't heard from Haru in days, and if he tells anyone else before he tells Haru surely that makes him the worst friend. Makoto stares at his phone for a quiet moment, then steels himself and pulls up Haru's name from the contacts list, pushing 'call' before he can change his mind.


	6. Chapter 6

Four whole rings before Haru answers. Enough time for Makoto to get sufficiently nervous that his voice wobbles when he says hello. He asks how Haru is, and gets a “Fine,” which isn't anything out of the ordinary and at least Haru is willing to talk to him.

“Look, about the other day. That text message.”

“You didn't want to talk to me.” It's hard when he can't see Haru's face. Usually he can pick up from Haru's eyes or the set of his mouth just how he's really feeling; over the phone, his voice is too flat to figure anything out.

“No, it wasn't like - ”

“Were you really on a date?”

Makoto sighs, runs a hand through his hair.

“Yes. It wasn't planned. I...bumped into someone, and we ended up going for lunch. And he typed the message, not me. I guess it was supposed to be funny.”

“Why did he have your phone?” 

Makoto tries to picture Haru's face, or what he might be doing as he talks, but it's hard. There's no background noise, no hint that Haru might be moving around. He tries to imagine Haru sitting on the single bed in his apartment – Haru's sent him pictures of every room in there, so he's got a half-decent idea of what the place looks like. Pictures him in jeans and T-shirt, bare feet, sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest. Tries to focus on what his face must look like as he speaks.

“It's a long story,” is all he can come up with. “One of those things where you had to be there.”

“But you didn't want to talk to me.”

“No, Haru, I - ” It shouldn't be so frustrating, he thinks. All he has to do is say that he saw Sousuke, that Sousuke typed the message for a joke. But then he'll have to explain why he was on a date with Sousuke, and what happened after, and Makoto's not sure he has the energy to do all that right now. Plus there's something about the time he's spent with Sousuke that he wants to keep for himself, if only for a little longer. He thinks of Sousuke that morning, nuzzled into his shoulder to whisper that he liked being called 'Sou', and Makoto doesn't want to share that with anyone else. Which is precisely the problem, he realises; that he has something he can't tell Haru about, and the last time that happened was when he'd applied to university and of course that didn't exactly work out well.

“Look,” he continues, “I guess I'm trying to figure out some stuff. The date was unexpected, and I'm trying to work out where this thing is going. I promise I'll talk to you once I've figured out how to explain it all.” It doesn't sound right, he knows, it's not what he wants to say to Haru, but it's all he can manage right now. “Is that okay? I mean, are we okay?”

He waits, counting the seconds, until Haru replies.

“Talk to me when you're ready.”

Makoto takes that as a positive. He's about to speak again, when he hears another voice at Haru's end of the line.

“Is that Rin?”

“Yes.” More mumbling. “He says 'hi'.”

Something in Makoto's chest aches suddenly; there aren't many reasons for Rin to be at Haru's so early on a Sunday morning. The picture in his mind changes, and now he sees Rin sitting behind Haru, draped over his shoulders, hands on Haru's arms. He tries to shake the image from his head.

“Tell him 'hi' from me too. Uh, Haru, I have to get ready for work. I can call you tomorrow, if you like.”

There's silence for a couple of seconds, before Haru answers. “Okay.”

They end the call, and Makoto sets his phone down on the kitchen counter, not wanting to look at it anymore. He's lost the wonderful sense of elation that coursed through him all the way home from Sousuke's place, finding it replaced with an angry sort of frustration that Haru could feel hurt when Haru's had Rin all this time and he's been alone.

What's worse is knowing, underneath it all, that there is no real reason for Makoto to feel angry. He ought to be happy for Haru, finally out experiencing the world beyond Iwatobi, with Rin to challenge and drive him where Makoto only ever kept him stable and safe. He knows he's being childish, that he was the one keeping something from Haru, and he ought to be satisfied that he's found Sousuke and that Haru is still talking to him. Still, none of this does anything to ease the tightening in his throat and the sting in his eyes.

Disgusted with himself, he leaves the kitchen and decides to take another shower. Under the water, he tries to remember the feel of Sousuke's hands, the feel of his breath on Makoto's skin. He dresses in his work clothes, packs a couple of textbooks to read on his break, and heads back out again. All afternoon, he throws himself into his work, and the shift manager praises him for his energy and enthusiasm. His work is mostly clearing tables and washing dishes – mindless tasks that don't tax him too much, which is exactly what he needs – classes and swim practice tend to leave him too tired to manage anything too mentally demanding.

By the time he clocks out, a little after seven, he feels drained but definitely calm, ready for a good night's sleep. When he collects his things from the back room, his phone is blinking with a message alert. Three picture messages from Haru; two wide shots of an athletic stadium where dozens of students are training, and one blurry picture of Rin jogging towards the camera, grinning and flashing a peace sign. Makoto clutches the phone to his chest and smiles to himself.

On Tuesday, when his Anatomy lecture rolls around again, he's feeling more like himself. Makoto likes his routine, and the added excitement of seeing Sousuke has made the morning extra pleasant. His first class of the morning over-runs and he has to dash across campus to get to the Science department. It hasn't made him late, thankfully, but he's not as early as he likes to be. The hall is filling up, but the front rows are still fairly empty; students at the back already have their phones in hand, making their lack of enthusiasm clear.

Makoto scans the crowd, looking for both an empty seat and Sousuke. Surprisingly, he finds both at once; Sousuke is already sitting on the front row, with a brand new notebook in front of him. Makoto likes the half-smile Sousuke gives when he sits down beside him and says “Hi.”

It's impossible to look at him and not remember their weekend together. Makoto hides his blushing by rooting through his backpack for his notebook, pen and glasses. When he's finally composed himself and got his glasses on, he turns back to Sousuke with a smile. To his surprise, Sousuke is looking back at him with a smirk of disbelief. Makoto's brow crinkles in confusion, until Sousuke reaches out and tweaks his glasses.

“I should have known,” is all he says before the professor appears at the front of the hall, ready to begin.

Because they're still only four weeks into the course, the lecture is full of new vocabulary and soon Makoto has a full page of notes. It's a struggle to keep up, and he almost loses awareness of Sousuke and all the other students in the room. Only occasionally does Sousuke affirm his presence by bumping his knee against Makoto's. It's pleasant without being distracting; if anything, Makoto feels that the resulting good mood leaves him feeling positive about the lecture too.

As the professor wraps things up, Makoto glances to the side, pleased to see that Sousuke has been just as busy. When Sousuke catches him looking, he actually hides his face a little, as if he's embarrassed.

“What?” he challenges when Makoto smiles at him. “It was interesting stuff. Doesn't mean I'm aiming to become teacher's pet or anything.” Makoto just laughs and shakes his head.

They leave the hall together, and it makes Makoto feel pleasantly warm inside knowing that they both assume that they're spending lunch time together. He pauses when they're far enough out that they won't be in anyone's way. Sousuke doesn't quite meet his eyes when he says, “So...I brought a bento. Where do you usually eat”

Makoto grins, and when Sousuke scowls at hi, it only makes him smile wider. He leads Sousuke around campus to an area where several other students are seated at outdoor tables, chatting noisily. They manage to find an empty tale and sit across from each other to eat.

It's nicely warm outside, summer just beginning to make itself known. Makoto enjoys the warmth of the sun on his face, and the way the air is sweetened by the flower beds and trees planted around the campus buildings. Although they don't say much, it feels comfortable sitting with Sousuke, even when their long legs tangle and bump occasionally under the table.

Since Makoto doesn't have anywhere else to be until swim practice at two, and since Sousuke doesn't say anything about needing to leave, they stay after most of the students around them have left. Makoto intends to find out more about Sousuke's other classes and extra-curriculars. It's not easy – Sousuke seems reluctant to talk much about himself, but he does seem genuinely interested in at least some of his courses, which makes Makoto feel a little relieved.

Eventually it's time for Makoto to head to the pool for practice. He hopes that Sousuke will walk with him again, so he's a little disappointed when Sousuke mentions a two o'clock lecture. They say their goodbyes at the table; it's tempting to reach up and kiss Sousuke right there, but there are too many people around, so Makoto settles for touching Sousuke's hand lightly with his own, enjoying the smoldering look on his face at the brief contact.

His good mood lingers all through practice, and he finds himself pushing even harder than usual, impressing the coach and his team mates. He's by no means the best on his team, but he manages to set a new personal best that day.

Two hours later, when he pulls himself out of the pool, he catches sight of Sousuke in the spectators' area – he's clearly been watching Makoto – and he nods a greeting when their eyes meet.

All through the team de-brief Makoto finds himself fidgeting, eager to get back to the locker room and change. He's worried that Sousuke might be too bored to wait for him, so it's a relief to find him leaning against the wall just outside the locker room door.

Once again, he's itching to touch Sousuke, wishing that there weren't so many people around. When Sousuke invites him back to his apartment, he has to bite down on the urge to say 'yes' immediately.

“I have a lot of studying to do,” he complains, wishing Sousuke wasn't looking at him so intently.

“So study at my place.”

It's tempting, but Makoto knows if he gets Sousuke alone he won't even think about opening a book. He tells Sousuke this, and it makes him laugh.

“You're saying you can't resist me?” he says, voice low and dangerous.

“Pretty much.” Makoto rubs the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at Sousuke.

“We'll study together,” Sousuke offers. “I promise to behave myself. If you think you can.”

Makoto's about to refuse again, but Sousuke touches his wrist, just for a second, and Makoto crumbles.


	7. Chapter 7

They do end up studying, to Makoto's surprise and relief, sitting on the floor of Sousuke's small living room with their books spread out on the coffee table. Makoto quizzes him on the Anatomy material from that morning and from the previous week, noting a marked improvement in Sousuke's knowledge between the two lectures. He's moved on to his Nutritional Science notes when his phone beeps once; he's actually disappointed to have his concentration interrupted, and it takes him a while to pull his phone from his pocket. As he's doing so, Sousuke's phone buzzes too.

“Aren't we popular?” Sousuke quips, but he frowns when he looks at his phone. 

When Makoto finally gets the message open, he finds himself starting uncomfortably at the screen. It's one of Haru's picture messages. In the photo, Haru is just barely acknowledging the camera. Rin is behind him, draped over his shoulders, and it looks as if he's the one who's taking the picture.

Across the table, Sousuke grunts and turns his phone to show Makoto almost the exact same photo. Slightly different angle, and Haru's gaze is elsewhere, but the two were clearly taken and sent one after the other,

Makoto looks back at the picture on his own phone, feels the familiar ache in his heart, but can't stop studying the image. Just a few feet away, Sousuke tosses his phone aside with a sigh that sounds decidedly angry.

“Sou.” With shaking hands, he turns off his phone and sets it down on the table. “Kiss me. Please?”

Within seconds, Sousuke is in front of him, and Makoto crawls on to his lap, kneeling with his thighs tight against Sousuke's. He doesn't care how hard he's clinging to Sousuke's shirt, or about the way his breath is loud in his nostrils as he kisses Sousuke. All that matters is that Sousuke holds him just as tightly, letting Makoto ravish him with reckless abandon. It's not long before he's painfully hard inside his jeans. Sousuke must feel it too, because he's quick to get Makoto's fly undone. Sousuke's hand on his dick feels incredible, and he could easily just let the guy jack him off right there, but he needs to touch Sousuke, needs to know Sousuke's right there with him.

After some awkward hurried fumbling, they end up stretched out on the floor, pants down just far enough to let their erections rub against each other. Makoto lays over him, one leg between Sousuke's, one elbow to prop himself up. His free hand tangles tightly in Sousuke's hair, and Makoto kisses him until he can barely breathe. He pulls back and locks eyes with Sousuke, watching his face as he presses his hips down, rocking hard against him, sweet frantic friction that never seems quite enough. Sousuke's face is contorted into something almost feral, but he never takes his eyes off Makoto, and one hand finds Makoto's ass and squeezes, urging him to move faster, harder. Needing more contact, Makoto buries his face in the crook of Sousuke's neck, teeth biting down until Sousuke's howling and bucking up to meet him, spurting hot and sticky between them. But it's not enough for Makoto, and he grabs Sousuke's hand and guides it, demanding that Sousuke finish him off. He doesn't last much longer, coming with grunts and gasps and Sousuke's name half-formed in his mouth. 

When he's done, he rolls off and lays on his back in the narrow gap between Sousuke and the couch, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. He will not cry. Sousuke doesn't deserve that, does not need to see him so desperate and guilty.

He hears Sousuke get up and leave the room, and resigns himself to the thought that he's blown it for sure, taken more than he ought to and let Sousuke see how pathetic he truly is. But moments later Sousuke's back with him, cleaning him up with a damp wash-cloth and helping him to put his disheveled clothes back into some sort of order.

Sousuke pulls him up and they end up sitting together, Sousuke with his back against the couch and Makoto between his legs, Sousuke's arms tight around his chest. He concentrates on the slow rhythm of Sousuke's breathing, his chest pressing against Makoto's back with each inhale. It's nice to be held like this, to give himself over entirely to Sousuke, grateful that he still wants to do this even after seeing Makoto so wretched and needy.

“Fuck, Mako,” Sousuke whispers against his skin, and actually laughs a little, like he can't quite believe what happened. Neither can Makoto, when it comes down to it. With the room silent around them, Makoto can't put into words what came over him.

Makoto laces his fingers around Sousuke's, brings one big hand to his lips and kisses it, and asks him, “How do you feel about Rin?”

He doesn't deserve an answer, half-knows it anyway, remembering Sousuke saying once that he too felt left behind by Rin. It's some time before Sousuke says anything.

“He challenged me. Made me push myself harder. Rin...he fucking shone. I wanted that. I wanted to match him. I used to think he wanted me to as well.”

“Did you love him?” He's glad he can't see Sousuke's face.

“How could I not?” There's a laugh, short and bitter, before Sousuke kisses his shoulder, like he's apologising.

“And now?” He knows he's pushing, knows Sousuke doesn't owe him anything, but they've gone too long without talking about Rin or Haru, and if Makoto takes the time to build his walls back up then he fears he might not be able to get the words out.

“He doesn't need me. I'm no match for him anymore, not with my shoulder. He's got Nanase.” There's no hiding the spite in his voice when he says it, and Makoto doesn't mind. “And that sucks. But...I'm getting used to it. Like getting used to the idea that I'm not a swimmer anymore.”

Makoto gets that. Sousuke had his whole world view shifted without asking for it, once with his injury and once when Rin chose Haru.

“You know, Haru never told me that he and Rin were together,” Makoto explains, while Sousuke presses kisses to the back of his neck. “I just watched it happen.”

“Hurts, doesn't it?”

He takes a deep breath, letting it loose with a laugh.

“So much. Haru chose someone else. I didn't even think he had a choice to make.” He tips his head to one side, giving Sousuke better access to his neck. “It's good that Haru has someone to challenge him. He needs to do things outside his comfort zone. Rin pushes him. I could never do that. I just...kept him comfortable.”

“Comfortable's not necessarily a bad thing.”

“Is that what this is?” Makoto squeezes Sousuke's hands. “Comfortable?” Sousuke nips at his earlobe, and he gasps.

“Six months ago, my life had gone to shit. I could use a little comfort now and then.” 

Makoto twists in his grip until he can reach to kiss Sousuke, soft and sweet.

“You know,” Sousuke continues afterwards, “now that we've talked about Rin and Nanase?”

“Yeah?”

“Let's not talk about them anymore.”

Some time later, Makoto sets to cleaning up the living room while Sousuke throws together a quick dinner. They eat on the couch, plates on their knees. Sousuke turns on the TV and they waste an hour on gameshows, before Makoto insists on washing the dishes.

He spends the night. In bed, he takes his time to learn all the places that make Sousuke whimper with pleasure, the movements that set him keening with need, the things that make him call out Makoto's name. Afterwards, when they're tangled up in each other's arms and he's whispering “Sou” against Sousuke's mouth and hearing “Mako” in response, Makoto thinks it might be the most beautiful thing he's ever known.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.

It's easy to let Sousuke become a part of his weekly routine. It means he doesn't socialise nearly as much with people from his classes, but Makoto soon finds that any time he spends with other students is time spent itching to see Sousuke again. He finds himself regularly spending nights at Sousuke's apartment – it's closer to campus than his own place – and soon ends up with as many of his clothes in Sousuke's wardrobe as in his own.

Somehow he keeps up his text message conversations with Haru, Nagisa and Rei. Haru doesn't ask about his love life, while Nagisa refers to Sousuke as his “mystery man” but doesn't ask for anything beyond the brief details Makoto spares him. Soon Makoto begins to feel as if he has two separate lives; one back in Iwatobi, where he's everyone's loyal friend and supporter, and one in Tokyo where he spends his nights in another man's bed. It's surreal and exciting, makes him feel oddly grown-up.

He's too cautious to think that his life is perfect right now – there's always something to work on. His problem is that the thing that needs addressing is actually Sousuke's thing. When they're together, Makoto can't help but feel happy. It's when Sousuke's not there that he worries. Makoto's figured out that Sousuke doesn't have any clubs or teams, and is lucky enough that he doesn't need to work to pay his bills. But Makoto doesn't know what Sousuke does when he's alone.

Oh, he has his suspicions. Sousuke seems to know the streets around campus incredibly well for someone who's only just moved to the city. He often turns up at the cafe when Makoto's near the end of his shift, even though it's nowhere near Sousuke's place.

It doesn't help that Sousuke never mentions being lonely, or being bored. He's never clingy and doesn't complain about Makoto spending time away from him. But Makoto knows that Sousuke hid his injury from Rin for months, desperate to keep up with him and maintain the illusion of being on top of his game.

Sometimes he tries to find ways to get Sousuke talking about things he could do outside of classes, but Sousuke proves to be a master of evasion, always turning the talk back to Makoto's swim practices, or the classes they share, which only confirms for Makoto that there's some deeper issue Sousuke's trying to avoid. He tries to leave it alone, doesn't want to disturb this amazing thing they've found together.

Because god, it's better than anything Makoto's ever known, maybe even better than swimming, because it's just his and Sousuke's, their tiny beautiful little world in Sousuke's bed where Makoto isn't competing or looking out for anyone or waiting for anyone to catch up. Where he's just Makoto, and Sousuke isn't a failed-something or a former-something, just this guy who holds Makoto when he's tired and kisses him when he's happy and makes him feel like he's on fire with just a touch.

Summer is definitely beginning to show itself in Tokyo, and Makoto is anxious about how close summer break is looming. He's already decided he's staying in the city for most of it, aiming to pick up some extra shifts at the cafe and save up as much money as possible. Knowing that Sousuke is going back home to work with his dad for a few weeks, Makoto is trying to savour every minute they get to spend together. Neither of them talks much about being apart; It feels too big, too scary, so instead they spend more of their time at Sousuke's place where it's just the two of them, where they don't have to compete with anyone else for the other's attention.

For most of Sunday morning, they've been naked in Sousuke's bed, only getting up now and then to use the bathroom or to bring food back to eat in between their love-making. Makoto's grown to relish days like these, when they can take their time to explore and tease or, like today, when they can make the bed creak and groan with their frantic, desperate movements, when 'harder' and 'deeper' are never quite enough.

He's still trying to catch his breath, sitting up with Sousuke caged between his legs, sweat-soaked back against Makoto's heaving chest. His left arm is draped over Sousuke's left shoulder, and he's cautiously resting his chin on the right one. Sousuke doesn't talk about his injury, but Makoto's always mindful of it. A surge of unexpected affection makes him press his lips to the skin there; Sousuke grunts but doesn't complain.

Looking down, Makoto can see where Sousuke has lost the muscle definition in his arms and chest, and is surprised at how much the sense of loss feels personal. Sousuke's legs are still strong and toned, surely confirming Makoto's theory that Sousuke spends most of his time out walking when he's alone.

Thoughtfully, he rubs his hands over Sousuke's biceps as he asks, “How's your shoulder these days?” Sousuke takes a deep breath before he answers.

“Getting better. It's the sort of injury that heals itself, over time. Provided you don't over-do it.” There's more than a hint of humourless self-deprecation as he says the last part, and it makes Makoto ache inside. He presses his lips to Sousuke's shoulder once more, longer this time, and hugs tighter with his left arm. Sousuke's hand comes up to cover his. “It's always going to be weak, though.”

“So...” Makoto thinks carefully before he speaks, worried that even phrasing his questions badly could make Sousuke stop talking about it. “Can you not do any kind of sport, or is there some stuff the doctors said you could do?” He feels Sousuke tense, briefly, before he responds.

“Exercise was always part of my recovery,” he explains, his voice strained. “They said if I kept it immobile for too long, the muscles would atrophy and I had to try to get some strength back. But the ligaments...if I push too hard, they're more likely to tear again, and then I'm back to square one.”

Wrapping his right arm around Sousuke's middle (and noting the way Sousuke's definitely more fleshy there than he was in high school), Makoto presses his temple to Sousuke's head, dropping his voice now that his mouth is so close to Sousuke's ear.

“Have you thought about picking up another sport? One where you don't need your arms so much? Like...soccer, maybe?”

“I don't think I'm much for team sports.” Sousuke's voice is flat, like he's sensing that Makoto's up to something, but Makoto doesn't want to let it go now that he's finally been able to ask.

“Track, maybe? You could be on the team without actually having to...you know...I mean, you'd just be running or whatever on your own.”

“I don't want to join the track team.” He feels Sousuke tense under his arms, and suppresses his instinct to hold tighter.

“Well, hey, how about if we started going to the gym together. We could - ”

Before he can finish, Sousuke's pulling out of his embrace, sliding across to sit at the edge of the bed, his back to Makoto.

“Drop it.”

Alone and suddenly feeling exposed, Makoto draws his knees up and pulls the sheets up to cover his legs.

“I just don't like the thought of you having nothing to do outside of classes.”

“I have stuff to do.” Sousuke's on his feet, padding to the chest of drawers and sharply pulling open the top drawer. He pulls out a pair of boxers, starts dressing without looking back at Makoto.

“What? Walking around the city? That's what you do, isn't it?” Makoto hates how small his voice sounds, hates the way arguments always make him shrink in on himself when the other person gets louder.

“Is that a problem?” The drawer is slammed shut, another one yanked open so that Sousuke can find a T-shirt.

“Don't you get lonely?”

“No.”

“Well, don't you miss - ”

“Of course I miss swimming!” Finally Sousuke looks at him, eyes flashing, harsh and tight. It's only for a couple of seconds, before he turns his back again, raking a hand through his hair.

“Exercise,” Makoto corrects, softly. 

“Oh, what, so you don't like that I'm not working out, is that it?” Sousuke's arms are crossed over his chest as he paces between the bed and the bedroom door. “You're pissed because I don't have the body I used to?”

“What?” Makoto's brow creases in confusion, not sure what Sousuke's body has to do with any of this. “No, that's not - ”

“You think I'm happy about that? You think I like knowing that I'm never going to be as strong as I was in high school? That I'm never going to be capable of what I was a year ago, or that I'm never going to look like I did a year ago?” He has one hand on the door handle, and Makoto thinks that if he opens that door, walks out of the room, then that's it, he's ruined it for sure. “Fuck, Mako...” One hand in his hair, and a tremor in his voice, and Makoto wants so desperately to go to him, to put his arms around Sousuke and make sure he doesn't walk out of the room. “I'm not broken. I don't need you to fix me, or take care of me. I'm not...I'm not Nanase.”

Sousuke's face is full of regret almost as soon as he's said it, but he doesn't apologise. Instead, he presses his hand to his forehead for a second, eyes screwed shut, before he opens the door and stalks out. Every instinct Makoto has is urging him to follow, but somehow his body isn't listening, because it won't move from the bed. Makoto focuses on willing away the tightness in his throat, until he hears another door in the apartment open and close, and it's like something switches off inside him. The tension in his muscles suddenly dissipates and he's able to get up off the bed, pick up his shirt and jeans from where they'd been thrown on the floor the night before, and dress himself quickly. He shoves his discarded underwear into his backpack alongside the clean work clothes he'd packed for the afternoon, then heads out into the hallway to find his shoes. 

He hears water running in the pipes; Sousuke's in the bathroom, he guesses. Makoto hovers by the door, wondering whether to knock. After a moment's indecision, he calls out, “Sousuke?” There's no answer, and he doesn't want to make things any worse. Instead, he pulls on his shoes and lets himself out of the apartment, and sets off in the direction of the station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sorry.


	9. Chapter 9

Thankfully, it's a busy day at the cafe, and Makoto loses himself in his work. Tourists are flocking to the city, already started on their summer vacations, and he enjoys the way the flood of different languages washes over him, drowning out any thoughts of Sousuke and their argument.

By the time he clocks out, he's almost dead on his feet. The shift manager lets him take a couple of boxes of unsold snacks, and he's looking forward to getting back to his apartment, wolfing down his food and hitting the sack. As luck would have it, however, he spends the train journey home sitting opposite a young couple clearly out on a date, leaning in close to whisper to each other and sitting with their knees touching. It reminds him of that morning, of being woken up by Sousuke nuzzling the back of his neck, arms wrapped around his middle. It makes his chest tighten, and he leans his head back against the window and lets his eyes close to block out the view.

When he finally gets to close the door to his apartment, effectively shutting out the rest of the world, it's both a relief and a curse. The place is far too quiet. He kicks off his shoes, dumps his backpack next to them and carries his take-out boxes to his room, planning to stay in there until morning. But it seems he doesn't have much of an appetite, and the short walk from the station has woken him up again, so there's no chance of sleeping any time soon. 

Stuck for something to do, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts scrolling through the recent calls list. Of course Sousuke's right at the top; he considers calling to apologise, but finds himself feeling an unexpected surge of spite. Let him call first.

His parents' number is next, but Makoto immediately rules out calling them. It wouldn't take long for his mother to figure out something was wrong, and she'd make him talk about it, and then he'd cry, and crying on the phone to his mother is not how he wants to end his day. Much further down the list is Haru, and Makoto realises he can't remember how long it's been since he last heard Haru's voice. Feeling a stab of guilt, he presses 'call'.

Haru answers after two rings, saying his name like he knows already that something's wrong.

“Haru, hi!” he manages, surprised that his voice remains steady. “It's been a while. How've you been?”

“Fine. Thanks.” Haru's clearly not convinced. “What's wrong?” Trust Haru to see straight through him.

“I, uh...” Jeez, it shouldn't be this hard to talk to Haru. But it's been so long, and he can't see Haru's face, and he's barely said anything to Haru about his relationship with Sousuke so he doesn't even know where to start.

“Is it that guy?” Haru asks, straight to the point as usual.

“Yeah.” Makoto draws in a long breath, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “We had a fight.” He realises he's shaking, hopes Haru isn't mad that he's calling for help after weeks of hardly any contact. “He said I was...that he didn't want me trying to take care of him. I think I pushed him too much, trying to get him to talk about something.” Makoto knows it's all coming out back to front, that Haru has no clue what he's talking about, but it's too late to worry about that now.

“If he doesn't want to be taken care of,” Haru says, slow and certain, “he shouldn't be with you.”

Makoto sniffs and wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Is that what I do? Do I have some weird need to fix people?” He's always been the one looking out for his friends, checking up on Haru, keeping Nagisa out of trouble, offering encouraging words to Rei.

“It's not weird,” Haru answers without hesitation. “It's you. Anyone who's your friend knows that.”

He gets what Haru's saying: if Sousuke can't deal with such an integral part of Makoto's personality then perhaps they're just not suited to each other. It doesn't take away the pain, but Makoto appreciates Haru's sentiment. He smiles through his tears.

“And if he upset you, then he's probably not a very nice person.”

That's what breaks Makoto, right there; he wants to tell Haru he's wrong, that Sousuke might just be the best thing that's ever happened to him, that it's his own fault for pushing and prying, but it all feels so huge, just so much _stuff_ all built up that he's kept to himself for too long, and he remembers Sousuke's sharp voice telling him to drop it, and all he wants is to fold in on himself until no one can see him.

“It's not like that.” His voice wobbles, scratchy and not quite his own, but he draws a breath and perseveres. “The situation upset me. I was...I don't know, trying to get him to open up about something, and he misunderstood. He thought I was unhappy with him.”

“Were you?”

“No! No. I think I was unhappy _for_ him. I thought he was lonely, or something. He doesn't have much to do when I'm not around. I don't like the thought of him being lonely.” Even now, thinking about Sousuke by himself, walking around the city with nothing else to do, makes him ache inside. He wonders if that's what Sousuke is doing now, or if he's alone in his apartment; he wonders whether Sousuke hurts as much as he does, or if he's glad to be rid of Makoto. "Is that weird? That I worry about that?"

“Has he ever said he was lonely?”

“No.”

“You thought he might be keeping something from you.” Haru's voice is steady, but Makoto knows him well enough to catch the accusatory nature of the question. “It hurts when someone keeps secrets from you.”

Makoto sighs; he doesn't want to feel angry with Haru too.

“You kept things from me too, Haru.” Somehow it doesn't come out sounding angry, just small and tired and a little bit hurt. “You never told me about you and Rin.”

There is silence down the line for several seconds. Makoto does not regret what he said.

“You knew about Rin and me,” Haru counters, his own voice sounding tight, restrained.

“I knew because I watched the two of you together,” Makoto explains, and he's surprised to realise that it doesn't feel painful to think about Haru and Rin. “But you never said the two of you were dating, or whatever it is you're doing. Is he...” He trails off, unsure of the right words to use. “Is Rin your boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Are you happy with him?” Makoto looks out the window, trying to work out which direction from his apartment Haru's place is.

“Yes.”

“Good. I'm glad you're happy.” He truly is. “I wish you'd talked to me about him. But I'm glad the two of you are happy.”

“I wish you'd told me more about this guy,” Haru returns, and Makoto ignores his use of the past tense. He doesn't want to think about whether things with Sousuke are past tense or not.

“I'll try to talk to you more about this kind of stuff.” He hopes that's enough of a peace offering. Haru is silent for a few seconds, then:

“I beat Rin at our last meet.” And with that, they've moved on, apparently. Haru tells him about his team's trip to compete against another university, far enough away that they stayed two nights in a tiny little bed and breakfast, just the team and no other guests. They pushed their twin beds together, only for Rin to fall into the gap between the two mattresses during the night. The story makes Makoto chuckle, and he's grateful for that. Makoto updates him on his own team's progress, and they make plans to meet up when their two universities are due to compete after summer break. Soon, Makoto realises that they've been talking for over half and hour, and he panics a little about his phone bill, regretfully telling Haru that he has to go. They say their goodbyes with genuine affection, and Makoto feels a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Afterwards, he fires off text messages to Nagisa, Rei and Gou. He doesn't say anything about his fight with Sousuke, just tells them that he wishes he were back in Iwatobi because the Tokyo summer heat is already getting to him. For a while, he stares at the phone in his hand, debating whether to try messaging Sousuke, but all he can think to say is 'sorry' and 'I miss you', and some wounded little part of him refuses to take the blame for Sousuke's misunderstanding.

Instead, he taps out a text message to his parents, letting them know he's been offered extra shifts at the cafe over the summer break, but he's going to look into maybe finding time to come home for a short visit. He knows he probably won't – plane tickets would eat up a big chunk of anything he saves up – but his parents will pester anyway.

He sets the phone down on the nightstand, and as he changes for bed it beeps once; he grabs it far too eagerly, unable to hold back his disappointment to find the message is from Nagisa and not Sousuke. Slipping into bed, he pulls the covers right up to his ears and rolls on to his side, phone still in one hand. He spends a good twenty minutes holding a text-conversation with Nagisa before it gets too hard to keep his eyes open long enough to type, and falls asleep with the phone still loosely in his hand.

He wakes up on Monday to three messages from Nagisa, one from Rei, and none from Sousuke.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this has taken so long to update. I've had the bulk of this chapter written for ages, but got stuck on the final conversation - I suck at writing arguments and confrontations (which is probably why October Rust is also taking a while to update). But here it is.

There are lots of things that ought to be different. End-of-term exams ought to be a welcome distraction. Makoto ought to feel confident about them, given how much he's thrown himself into studying lately. And after starting his first year trying desperately not to obsess over Haru, he really ought to be able to stop obsessing over Sousuke. But Makoto is also aware that exams will be his last chance to see Sousuke before summer break.

Sousuke has been conspicuously absent from the two classes they share, and when Makoto asks around, the few people Sousuke's actually talked to over the term have no idea where he is, other than that he might possibly have borrowed class notes from some guy someone sort of knows. That, at least, is reassuring, since it means that Sousuke plans to finish the term. Makoto has been finding his thoughts drifting to scenarios where Sousuke drops out of college, goes home to his family and takes on some awful job with his father's business, whatever that might be, in order to avoid him. Which is ridiculous, he knows; Sousuke is not prone to such melodramatic behaviour, and Makoto certainly isn't worth anyone throwing away their university career.

Still, he keeps wondering. Imagining Sousuke alone in his apartment, or out walking, which is depressing but not as much as the times he imagines Sousuke out with other people, smiling and laughing his deep rumbling laugh and not caring at all that Makoto feels like his head is too heavy to lift from his pillow some mornings. 

His Sports Studies course exam is third on his timetable, and the first of two that Sousuke should also be sitting. Makoto arrives early, hoping for a chance to speak to him; while the other students are still filing into the hall, Makoto cranes his neck desperately trying to spot Sousuke in the crowd. There's a brief moment of panic when he wonders if Sousuke won't turn up at all, quickly followed by elation when Sousuke slips in at the last minute, then aching disappointment when Sousuke slips into the last empty seat without even looking at him. Somehow he makes it through the paper without his mind wandering too much, but the last five minutes when he's checked and double-checked his answers and has nothing else to do feel like the longest five minutes of his life. He could turn and look at Sousuke, but then Sousuke will know (as will every other student in the hall), and Makoto doesn't like the idea of being the first one to crumble. He wants to make things right, wants nothing more than to be with Sousuke again, but Haru's words have stuck with him. _If he doesn't want to be taken care of...if he upset you..._

Not that it matters, because somehow Sousuke manages to slip out of the hall before Makoto's even collected his bag, and by the time Makoto makes it outside there's only a churning sea of students and no sign of Sousuke anywhere.

Which leaves him three days until his Human Biology exam, which will be his last definite chance to see Sousuke before the summer break. He thinks about doing his studying at the university library in the hope that he might see Sousuke around campus, but Makoto's studious reputation puts him in high demand among his classmates, who bribe him with offers of food to join their study groups, and Makoto can't think of any good reasons to say 'no' besides _I'd rather be stalking my ex-boyfriend, if you don't mind_.

The Biology test is scheduled for Thursday morning; Makoto thankfully has the rest of that day free and plans to spend it cramming for Friday's exam, which will be his last. But the sense of desperate anxiety that quickly creeps up on him that Thursday has little do with tests. Deciding to take a more pro-active approach, Makoto waits outside the hall as other students head straight in to find their seats. He scans the throng, wondering if it's possible for someone as tall and striking as Sousuke to be lost in a crowd. Although he knows that Sousuke will probably be among the last to arrive once again, that doesn't make the wait any easier. In fact, he's so lost in thoughts of Sousuke already sitting in the hall (or not turning up at all) that he almost misses Sousuke's actual arrival. Evidently not expecting Makoto to be waiting, Sousuke almost walks right past him. It's only the arrival of their professor calling, “Inside, everyone, and take your seats!” that snaps Makoto out of his thoughts and alerts him to Sousuke's presence, one of the last students to arrive.

Makoto notices Sousuke's surprise, and manages a moment of gratitude when Sousuke definitely does not look away. But then the professor begins physically bundling the remaining stragglers into the room, and Makoto has mere seconds to turn to Sousuke and plead, “Wait for me after?” before he's shoved towards his assigned seat.

The exam passes by in a blur; all of Makoto's studying means that he can breeze through the questions almost automatically. But this leaves him with a full fifteen minutes at the end of the test to spend thinking about all the things he wants to say to Sousuke, all the questions and confusion and hurt feelings suddenly bubbling up to clutch at his heart and make him feel like he might choke on the words before he has a chance to say them.

When the professor calls time, Makoto is desperate to get out of the hall. He's the first on his feet, bouncing impatiently as he waits for other students to get out of his way. Up ahead, he sees Sousuke, one of the first to leave, and Makoto's heart drops at the thought that he might be too late. It's tempting to elbow his way past the people in front of him, but his habitual politeness gets the better of him, and he can't bring himself to do anything but wait and fret and keep his eyes peeled for Sousuke's face in the crowd.

Finally, _finally_ he's outside, being shoved and bumped by students less polite than he, only there's no sign of Sousuke ahead of him as he's swept along on a wave of people eager to be out of the exam hall. Makoto slips to the edge of the crowd, to where he can stand still at last, shoulders sagging, chest tight as he tries not to think that Sousuke's already gone.

“Oi, Makoto.” Somehow, Sousuke's voice cuts through the rumble of conversation, and Makoto turns automatically at the familiar sound. Sousuke stands close to the door, like he's been waiting for Makoto after all, and Makoto can't help but feel hopeful.

Although he doesn't intend it, they wind up sitting at the same outdoor table they shared weeks ago, the second time they ate lunch together. With the sun behind him, Sousuke's face is in shadow, making it difficult for Makoto to read his expression. He settles instead for studying the table-top in front of him, wondering how to start.

“I've got, like, half an hour,” Sousuke says, more than a hint of impatience in his voice. Makoto looks up, confused, so Sousuke explains, “this was my last exam. I'm taking off early – gonna spend the summer working for my dad.”

“What about your test scores? Makoto asks. Not like he needs to know, but it's something to day.

“I'll pick them up online.” Sousuke sighs, and Makoto taps his fingers on the table-top, and Sousuke fidgets with the strap of his backpack.

“I'm sorry I upset you.” He curses himself for saying it, having promised himself that he wouldn't be the first to apologise, but he realises it's true, all the same. If he could go back and fix things so that he never had to see Sousuke's face in that twisted scowl, or hear Sousuke's anger directed solely at him, he'd give practically anything. “I mean, I mean...I'm not sorry for being concerned,” he explains, trying a second attempt at assertiveness, “but I didn't realise it would make you angry.”

Across the table, Sousuke rolls his eyes.

“I don't need you to be concerned for me,” he says, and it sounds like he's making an effort to hold back this time. “I'm not broken. I don't need people telling me they're so concerned for me all the time.”

“I can't help how I feel,” Makoto snaps back, remembering Haru's words over the phone: _If he doesn't want to be looked after, he shouldn't be with you._

He waits expectantly for Sousuke's anger to come rushing out, but...nothing. When he risks a glance up, Sousuke's trying to suppress a smile.

“Yeah, I know,” he mutters, head down. “You gotta look after everyone, right?”

Confused by this unexpected shift in mood, and not quite sure if he's being made fun of, Makoto furrows his brow.

“My shoulder's...okay, I won't swim competitively again, but I'm not an invalid. I'm okay with that. But everyone treats me like my life is over now. I didn't need that from you as well.”

Makoto shakes his head.

“That wasn't it.” Sousuke frowns at him. “I didn't think you were...broken, or anything like that. I thought you were lonely.” At that, Sousuke snorts. “Don't laugh at me! I just kept thinking of you out walking by yourself, and not being able to do something you loved.” He ducks his head, runs his hands through his hair. It does sound faintly embarrassing, saying it out loud.

“You know I used to live here, right?”

When he looks up, Sousuke's expression isquizzical.

“What?”

“Rin never told you? Jeez...” Sousuke turns his head and scowls, as if Rin might see it from wherever he is right now. “I went to high school in the city for a couple of years. I've got one or two friends out here that I've been catching up with. Wanted to see how much things had changed while I was at Samezuka.”

Makoto knows he's gaping at Sousuke, and tries to school his face into something less awkward.

“I'm not one for big crowds and going drinking and stuff,” Sousuke continues, absently tapping his fingers on the table. “I like being by myself sometimes.” 

“I didn't realise.” Makoto wants to reach out and touch Sousuke's hand; he holds back, not wanting to overstep his bounds, but then remembers all the times Sousuke joked about him being such a 'good boy', and does it anyway. Sousuke doesn't return the touch, but doesn't push his hand away either.

“Look, I really do have to leave soon,” Sousuke tells him, checking his watch. “I'm catching a train in a couple of hours and I need to get home and pick up my stuff.” He doesn't actually make any attempt to move, so Makoto squeezes his hand.

“I guess we won't see each other for a while, huh?” They look at each other, and Makoto hopes it's sadness he sees in Sousuke's eyes.”But when you get back, maybe we could...could we try again?”

There's a moment of quiet, then Sousuke turns his hand over so Makoto's palm is resting on his.

“Maybe.”

He stands and slings his bag over his shoulder.

“Maybe,” Makoto echoes, allowing himself a smile as Sousuke walks away.


End file.
